Ode to My Planner
Claire Scott

I couldn’t live without you, my faithful
faux-leather friend, with gold corners
and gilt foiled paper edges.
My dear companion who keeps me
at the top of my game, even at eighty-two,
when others are losing marbles faster than
a Peregrine Falcon can fly. Reminding me
of grandkids’ birthdays. Who is turning twelve
and who will be twenty-two,
as well as a dentist appointment next Wednesday
a dreaded root canal, which I would pretend to forget
but would be charged a tight-fisted fee.

Although this week you let me down.
Maybe you’re losing your wits as well.
Who is this “L” that I’m meant to have lunch
with on Friday, my sister Louisa? my cousin Leila?
Libby my hairdresser? You reminded me
it was Jim’s birthday tomorrow,
so I sent my next door neighbor a funny e-card
filled with good wishes. He texted back
that his birthday wasn’t until September.
Wrong Jim. Marbles roll across the rug.
The right Jim in Arizona, shuffling on his walker,
waiting for a card.

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Claire Scott’s Comments

Now past 80, I find myself drawn to writing about aging and end of life questions. “Ode to My Planner” is meant to be a humorous poem about forgetting appointments. I actually did send a birthday card to Jim H. in April, when his actual birthday is in September. Poor Jim M. got a belated birthday card. My planner simply noted Jim’s birthday on April 6.

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